


the way you smile (does it for me)

by godsensei



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 21:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12396996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godsensei/pseuds/godsensei
Summary: Lance and Shiro get intimate, but can't keep from laughing. It's good for them anyway.





	the way you smile (does it for me)

**Author's Note:**

> Really wanted to write a pairing having fun laughing during sex and this is what I came up with. I love Shance, lol. This is not beta'd and I'll probs check over for errors tomorrow. Hope you enjoy.

“Hey, Shiro,” he hears from his bathroom doorway, and he stops shaving long enough to turn to the owner of the voice.

 

He almost drops his razor, and immediately purses his lips together to prevent himself from laughing the rest of the Altean shaving cream Coran let him have right off of his face. 

 

Lance is almost completely nude, save for the underwear he’s wearing, which are the source of Shiro’s amusement. They’re a pair of cable-knit boxers, like a grandpa sweater, but for the bottom.

 

Lance can’t keep a straight face and starts laughing, nose scrunching up as he puts his hand against the door trim. He’s really cute, especially when he laughs, Shiro thinks.

 

“What _are_ those?” Shiro can’t help but ask as he watches him, which makes Lance laugh harder.

 

“What are thoooooose?” Lance gasps, bending over and clutching at his stomach. Shiro’s brows pull up in fond amusement, and he waits patiently for Lance to straighten back up.

 

“I thought I might as well put my Mamita’s knitting lessons to use. What do you think?” Lance poses, running his hands down his abs, his tongue peeking out between his teeth. Shiro shakes his head, but plays along.

 

“Mm, very fashion-forward,” he comments faux-seriously, “you should make some for everyone on board.”

 

Lance throws his head back at that, no doubt picturing the fallout. “Keith would stab them on sight.”

 

“Coran would wear them over his own clothes,” Shiro says, nodding, and Lance giggles, pulling at the boxers where they’ve ridden up a bit.

 

“Thank you for supporting my dreams.” Lance grins at him, stepping into the bathroom and behind Shiro, wrapping his arms around him. He grabs at Shiro’s pecs through his tank top, and Shiro rolls his eyes, turning to the mirror to finish shaving.

 

“Is this considered part of your dreams?” Shiro asks wryly, and Lance nods, his soft hair tickling the back of Shiro’s neck at the motion.

 

“Most definitely,” he answers as he squeezes and Shiro laughs, Lance’s hands sliding down a bit so he can give him a proper hug. He stays there, warm and quiet, until Shiro gives his razor a final tap and rinse, wiping his smooth face with a hand towel.

 

“Done,” Shiro says, and turns around so he can hug Lance back. Lance tilts his head back to look at him, and he closes his eyes. It’s not like Shiro can resist that, so he presses a kiss against Lance’s mouth. He doesn’t move though, just rests his lips there, and Lance opens his eyes, smiling against his skin.

 

“Shiroooo,” he whines as he pulls his head back, bottom lip pouting out. Shiro moves his hands up to cradle Lance’s face, pressing soft, sweet kisses wherever he pleases— against his eyelids, his cheek, smooching his lips dramatically. Lance giggles, tightening his hold and meeting Shiro in an actual kiss.

 

Lance sucks in a breath through his nose, eyebrows furrowing because kissing Shiro makes him feel indescribable. A shock always runs straight from the pit of his belly to his toes, every time. Especially when Shiro hesitates, mouth parted against Lance’s open mouth, like he wants to do so many things, but can’t choose. Inevitably, he gives in to one of those ideas, and this times he goes for softly holding Lance’s chin and slotting their mouths together. His tongue slides against Lance’s, slowly and deliberately.

 

He hums, running his hands down Lance’s shoulders, and then his back, tickling his fingers down his ribs. Lance nips his lips in retaliation, pulling away with his eyes still closed, only letting them flutter open when he’s had a moment to recover.

 

Shiro’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, and Lance laughs, throwing his arms around Shiro’s shoulders to hold him again. He loves being in Shiro’s arms, loves that Shiro lifts him from his feet for a moment to clutch him tightly.

 

“Wanna take these off me?” Lance asks against his ear, lips catching Shiro’s earlobe to massage it between his teeth.

 

“I don’t know, they’re a bit of a turn on,” Shiro answers, shivering, and Lance is about to retort when Shiro grabs two handfuls of his ass, squeezing.

 

“Shiro!” His face flushes and he gasps, swatting Shiro's shoulder lightly, and Shiro’s laugh rumbles from his chest.

 

“You just copped a feel of my chest,” he points out and, well, he’s got Lance there.

 

“I can’t help if it you’ve got the nicest tiddies in space,” Lance says, with a smarmy look on his face, before he yelps as Shiro well and truly picks him up, carrying him into the attached bedroom and throwing him on the unmade bed. Lance is a horrible influence on him, Shiro thinks, he used to make his bed with military precision.

 

Lance bounces against the mattress, throwing his limbs out like a starfish.

 

“Alright, Grandpappy, let’s have boring missionary sex so you don’t throw my hip out like last time,” he dramatizes, wiggling his brows playfully.  

 

“My dick just shriveled up permanently,” Shiro says, deadpan, and Lance snorts, shaking his hips.

 

“I know you want me,” Lance sing-songs. He’s all but dancing on the bed, and Shiro smirks, pulls his shirt up and off as seductively as he can. Lance gets momentarily distracted, eyes roving down his exposed chest, then back up.

 

He mumbles in his mother language, Shiro can hear his tongue rolling quickly.

 

“Weren’t you singing something?” he asks, because he likes to tease Lance, because Lance is so expressive.

 

“I’m distracted by your nipples,” Lance answers, screeching when Shiro jumps at him, rolling them so that Lance lands on top of him. He watches Lance laugh helplessly, clutching at Shiro’s arms. Lance looks down at him, face softening into apparent fondness. “Now I’m distracted by your eyes.”

 

“Mm, still wanting to know my secret to ‘perfect eyeliner’?” Shiro asks, hands trailing up and down Lance’s back.

 

“One day I’ll catch you mid-routine and then all of your secrets will have been laid bare for me, big guy.” Lance turns his chin down and touches his lips to Shiro’s chest, trails his open mouth down scarred skin, interspersing kisses until he reaches the aforementioned distracting nipples. He laves his tongue over one, holding it between his teeth with a tiny bit of pressure. Shiro sucks in a soft breath, sighing it out tremulously.

 

He’s glad he can be like this, with Lance. He knows he put up a hell of a fight, but somehow, Lance had won him over. Shiro is grateful. He makes the edges less sharp, lightens up the room just by walking in. When Shiro gets in too deep, Lance pulls him right out, surprisingly patient about it all. There are so many aspects people miss about Lance at first glance. Shiro gets that now.

 

His large hands slide down Lance’s back, pulling at the cable-knit boxers. Lance sits up, straddling his waist as Shiro smiles up at him, tugging at the boxers pointedly.

 

“Can’t get these off if you’re sitting on them,” he says fondly, and laughs when Lance almost trips off the bed with the boxers falling down his thighs. He stands up straight, winking at Shiro as he shimmies them down his legs and steps out of the fabric, lifting them up to twirl them around his finger.

 

They slap him in the face.

 

“Yes, do that again!” Shiro fake moans, and Lance splutters. He throws them to the side, jumping back on the bed so he can straddle Shiro again.

 

He puts his hands on Shiro’s exposed chest, running his fingers down his sides so he can squeeze his hips.

 

“You doing okay?” Lance asks, and Shiro sobers a bit, nodding. He’s always asking— making sure Shiro’s not forcing himself to be everything for everyone, all the time. Sometimes Shiro still feels like he needs to be that person, but Lance is always quick to remind him that they’re a team— that he isn’t alone.

 

“What about you?” Shiro asks in return, because Lance is good at taking care of others, but not himself. He has so many insecurities, but tries to hide them the best he can. Sometimes they seep out without Lance really noticing.

 

“Be better if we’d get to the part where we stare into each other’s eyes, without blinking, while we do it.”

 

“The whole time?” Shiro asks.

 

“The whole time. No blinking. It’s the only way I can get off,” Lance says, grim-faced. Shiro nods and Lance nods back.

 

They burst into laughter.

 

Shiro grabs at Lance’s thighs and cuts himself off, making an interested noise.

 

“You been working out?”

 

“Psh, this is natural, babe,” Lance insists and Shiro hums his appreciation.

 

Lance leans forward, pressing a close-mouthed kiss to his lips, dipping back down a few times for good measure. He’s silent as he hooks his fingers around the band of Shiro’s boxers, Shiro lifting his hips for him so he can pull them off easily.

 

“I love you, you know,” Lance says when he settles back on top of him, looking embarrassed about it.

 

“I love you, too,” he answers, feeling impossibly warm, entwining his fingers with Lance’s.

 

“Okay,” Lance says, squeezing his hands. “Okay… Let’s have sex.”

 

“Okay,” Shiro says, huffing out a laugh.

 

Lance smiles goofily, leaning down again so he can open Shiro’s lips with his own, licking into the warmth of Shiro’s mouth like he’s meant to be there. Shiro makes another, different sort of appreciative noise, dragging his hands up Lance’s back as he moves to hold his face, angling his head for a deeper kiss. Lance obliges, running his tongue along the roof of Shiro’s mouth, feeling the shape of his teeth, tasting the sweetness of his breath.

 

Sometimes, Lance still can’t believe they’re together. Shiro had been so closed off to him before, and Lance had been pining after Shiro for as long as he could remember. Everything about Shiro has always been attractive to Lance, especially now-- his body, his voice, his mind, the way he’s always giving, the way he looks at him.

 

Trailing away from his mouth, Lance drags his lips down Shiro’s chin, peppering open-mouthed kisses against his skin. He laves his tongue across the sensitive skin of Shiro’s neck before biting down. Shiro groans below him as Lance lingers there, sucking a mark to stake his claim. He moves on, biting softly down the column of his throat and onto his chest, kissing his way down Shiro’s abs.

 

“I want to thank not only God, but Jesus, for these abs,” he says, feeling Shiro’s stomach flex as he laughs.

 

“God doesn’t train these every day,” Shiro comments before sucking in a breath when Lance worries the delicate skin at the juncture of his thigh and hip. Lance pulls back, grinning up at Shiro, who meets his gaze with dark eyes.

 

“Sensitive,” he teases, getting back to it. He crawls backwards as he works his mouth down Shiro’s thigh. Shiro spreads his legs subconsciously, and Lance runs his long-fingered hands up the backs of his thighs, circling over his knees, then dragging them back down the front, settling down right where Shiro wants him.

 

“I really want to eat you out at some point,” Lance breathes, and Shiro’s cock, which is lying fat and heavy against his stomach, jumps at the thought.

 

“Lance…” he warns, and Lance grins, pressing his palm on the length of Shiro’s dick and dragging it upwards. Shiro lets his head fall back, sighing out as Lance takes him in hand.

 

“You have such a pretty dick,” Lance pouts, running his nose along the shaft and letting his lips just barely catch at the top. He keeps his touch there feather-light, letting his unoccupied hand tickle the spot just behind Shiro’s balls. Shiro moans softly, his hands clenching the bed sheets.

 

Lance feels a thrill shoot through his limbs, his face heating at the noise. He loves when Shiro lets himself go, loves hearing how Shiro sounds. It’s intoxicating, makes him feel wanted in ways he's never felt before.

 

He leans forward again, licking a stripe up Shiro’s cock before engulfing the head in wet heat and taking as much of him as he can. 

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Shiro rasps, as Lance begins hollowing his mouth, watching the rise and fall of Lance’s head. He looks obscene, the girth stretching Lance’s lips wide, the shape of Shiro appearing and reappearing in the skin of Lance’s cheeks. Shiro covers his own mouth with his hand, his nostrils flaring as he breathes harshly.

 

He wants so badly to fuck into the tight space Lance has created for him, but he keeps his hips as still as he can, hand falling back down to the sheets as he arches his back.

 

“Lance,” he pleads, fingers threading through Lance’s hair and gripping. Lance hums around him, and Shiro’s toes curl, closing his eyes and letting his mouth fall open. His heart is pounding, chest heaving as he pants.

 

Lance pulls back, licking away a bead of precome before he looks up.

 

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, and Shiro sits up abruptly to pull Lance on top of him, laying back and rolling them over. Lance laughs underneath him. His lips are swollen and his face is flushed, and Shiro can’t help but admire how beautiful he looks.

 

“Mm, your mouth is dangerous,” he tells him, not even giving Lance time to respond before he’s dropping down, grinding their hips together. His cock is still wet, so the slide is delicious, causing Lance to shudder and clutch at Shiro’s shoulders. Shiro undulates lazily, and Lance can’t help but moan with each passing caress of skin-to-skin. He pants into Shiro’s neck, already so turned on he can't stand it. 

 

“If you don’t stop,” he whines, “I’m gonna come.”

 

Shiro thrusts a few times more, before sitting back on his haunches, looking down at Lance.

 

“Want me to finger you?” he asks, and Lance shakes his head quickly.

 

“Just lube. Really want you inside me,” he says, and Shiro gives him a brief kiss before reaching over to the bedside table. He pulls the lube out, popping the cap to get what he feels is enough. He throws the bottle to the side, not caring where it lands.

 

Lance parts his thighs, almost quivering in anticipation, watching as Shiro coats his fingers. He looks so good, his thick cock hanging between his thighs, sweating running down his chest. He’s flushed, hair a little mussed. He’s fucking perfect.

 

Shiro looks up at him and smiles, and Lance smiles back, feeling his heart ache with hunger. He’s never felt like this before.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Shiro asks, as he circles a finger around Lance’s entrance. Lance’s breath catches at the initial breach.

 

“What our children will look like,” Lance says, and Shiro snorts.

 

“Shut up,” he mutters, pressing his finger further inside.

 

“I hope they look like me. I’ve got all the looks, of course.”

 

“You do,” Shiro agrees, pushing his second finger inside.

 

“Even your fingers are big,” Lance groans, clenching around him. Shiro laughs, trying to focus. He pulls his fingers out, and uses the rest of the lube to cover his cock.

 

“You ready?” he asks, and Lance nods, wiggling his hips.

 

“Put it in me!” he exclaims, and Shiro gives him a pained look, but leans over him, bracing an arm beside Lance’s head. He guides himself in slowly, gripping the base of his cock because just the feel of Lance, just the thought of being inside is enough to turn his insides into liquid fire.

 

“Oh, _oh fuck_ , oh,” Lance moans, gripping the top of the bed as Shiro sinks in. Shiro’s thighs tremble with the effort not to just fuck into him, to rut into Lance hard and fast like his body is urging him to. “Fuck, Shiro, why are you so big, what the _fuck_?”

 

Shiro’s laughter tapers off into a groan as he bottoms out, and he lets his head fall down, forehead pressed against Lance’s chest.

 

“You feel so good,” he slurs, mouthing at Lance’s nipple.

 

“B-believe it—” Lance tries, but hiccups as Shiro slips backwards just a touch, thrusting back in shallowly.

 

“Don’t use memes in bed,” Shiro breathes, doing it again and again, a scant few centimeters at a time. Lance’s legs wrap around his hips, squeezing tightly.

 

“C’mon, I need you to _move_ ,” Lance urges, and Shiro gets the point, pulling out and pushing all the way back in, the friction causing them to moan in tandem. “Feels good, feels _so_ good, _Shiro—_ ”

 

Lance gasps when Shiro moves inside him, again, forceful, intent, again, and again. He goes steady, slowly, and Lance feels like he can’t breathe with it. Shiro’s thrusts are deep, his cock stretching him and filling him just right. He'll never understand the sense of wholeness he feels when Shiro is inside him. 

 

“Your dick is… _Jesus_ …” Lance pants, and Shiro startles, stopping abruptly. Lance opens his eyes, which he had shut tightly, to look at Shiro quizzically. Then Shiro laughs, all his energy focused on just lying there. His body moves with his laughter, and Lance starts giggling helplessly under him, catching up to what he just said.

 

“Shut _up_ ,” Lance gasps, hooking his ankles around the back of Shiro’s thighs and trying to pull him closer. “C’mon, c’mon.”

 

“Sing hymns to my dick for access--”

 

“Shiro, _oh_ my _god_ \--”

 

“You already said that, babe--”

 

Lance rolls his hips, tightening around Shiro purposefully, so he’ll start moving. Shiro grunts, lifting himself back up onto his knees so he can fuck into Lance again.

 

“Yeah, there we go,” Lance sighs, lifting his hips to meet Shiro’s thrusts. His mouth falls open as he watches their bodies move together, watches Shiro’s cock disappear into him. Shiro matches his pace from before and Lance groans, lifting his hands to clutch at Shiro’s wrists which are framing Lance’s head.

 

His jaw tenses as Shiro hits a particularly good spot, because the pleasure is bordering on pain and he can’t describe how amazing it feels. His body is trembling, need overpowering his senses.

 

Then Shiro’s dick slips out.

 

“Whoops,” he says, like he dropped something, and Lance loses it, dissolving into giggles. He’s laughing so hard he starts honking.

 

“ _Lance_ ,” Shiro admonishes, breathing heavily as he stares down at him, and Lance covers his mouth with his hand.

 

“Sorry, you just— you should've seen your face— and then the way you said ‘ _whoops_ ’, dude.” He yowls with laughter, but the air is punched out of him when Shiro thrusts in, hard.

 

He does it again, deeply, and Lance’s laughter trails off into helpless pleasure sounds.

 

“You’re so fucking cute when you laugh, you know that, don’t you?” Shiro asks, words jolting out with his controlled rhythm. Lance slurs out an ugly noise, unable to help himself, back arching.

 

“Noooo,” he breathes, hiccuping when Shiro pushes back in, sliding over a particularly sensitive spot inside, over and over. “Ohhh  _God_.”

 

“You are,” he says, bending over Lance’s frame again so he can kiss him. “You’re beautiful all the time.”

 

“ _Shiro_ ,” he pants, moans punching out of him, an endless litany of sex noises falling from his lips without even trying. All he can do is take it when Shiro grips his hips and fucks into him and fucks into him and _fucks_ into him. He’s sweating everywhere, his legs are trembling-- the pressure building up and up, winding him tight.

 

“ _Fuck_ , fuck--” Lance voice pitches up, hot and burning all over. He’s never felt so full.

 

“I got you,” Shiro croons, and Lance can’t help the sob that’s forced out of him as he comes, moaning again and again, overcome with it, out of his mind. Shiro makes a ragged, wild noise above him and Lance sucks in air, shaking and shivering and body jerking as he comes, too.

 

Lance isn’t sure when Shiro moves off of him, but he looks over him, chest heaving. Shiro turns his head from where he's staring at the ceiling, meeting his gaze.

 

“The only way I’ll have sex with you again is if you continue to call my dick--”

 

“Nope,” Lance answers, blushing.

 

“Come on,” Shiro wheedles, “you can even wear the grandpa underwear again.”

 

“I’ve created a monster,” Lance gripes, but smiles, rolling over so he can kiss Shiro properly. Shiro laughs against his lips, grinning up at him when he parts. “Love you.”

 

“Love you, too,” Shiro says.


End file.
